


Draco Malfoy and the Strange Case of Falling in Love

by angrycuddlefish



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Nerd Draco Malfoy, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post Series, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Sweet Draco Malfoy, apothecary draco, draco has a cat named Sal after salazar slytherin, he really is a nerd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15068267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrycuddlefish/pseuds/angrycuddlefish
Summary: Draco Malfoy cannot escape his family name in the wizarding world, but the world of muggles knows nothing of wizarding affairs.





	1. Chapter 1

 

The Battle of Hogwarts was the talk of the wizarding world for a long time after it happened. No one really knew what exactly happened that day, save for those who were there. The wizarding world mourned their losses and celebrated the victory, and nothing was the same again. Rumors spread and simmered out, and a new one took its place just as quickly. A popular subject of the rumors was the Malfoy family. The family seemed to vanish after the Battle of Hogwarts, so speculation as to where they were began to circle. Some said they were still in the Malfoy Manor; others said they had moved out of England all together. Some said they might have seen Lucius Malfoy in Manchester once, and Narcissa in Brighton. Speculation that the heads of the family were no longer together swirled around, but no confirmation ever came. Several years passed, and the once influential family seemed to be fading out of society all together.

    As the wizarding world began to forget about the Malfoys, a little street in the middle of Bath was just being introduced to one. A strange little shop opened in an old brick building draped in ivy, called Malfoy Apothecary, causing quite a stir among the other shop owners of Old Herald Street. The store itself was quite neat; shelves of bottles with strange labels written in swooping, elegant lettering lined the walls, and scrolls of paper sat on counters next to jars of herbs and glass cases of bizarre little statues and decorations. Dried plants hung on the walls free of shelves, and live ones hung from the ceiling and lined the tops of cases. Stepping into the shop was like stepping back in time a century or two. A counter mostly free from clutter was at the back, and behind it, more shelves and drawers. Mortar and pestles sat next to thick leather books, more jars, vials, and glass containers of dried out plants and liquids, all labeled in the same curvy lettering.

     The most peculiar thing about the shop was its owner, a soft spoken young man with wavy hair of almost white, and the brightest blue eyes one could ever see. No more than twenty-five years old, he ran the shop completely alone. He seemed to take more interest in plants than people, and kept to himself mostly. He lived above his store, bought bread from Maurine's Baked Goods like most people who lived on Old Herald Street, bought his cheeses and dairy from Dumas Fromagerie like most people, his meats from Bordon and Son's Butchery, had his vests and trousers tailored by Evelyn Kent, who didn't own a shop herself but everyone went to her for tailor made clothing anyway, and his miscellaneous grocery from the general store on the corner, like most people did. Old Herald Street and a few streets around formed a tight nit community, and newcomers were always a curiosity. The more established store owners, including Oliver Bordon of Bordon and Son's Butchery, Maurine Barraclough of Maurine's Baked Goods, and Evelyn Kent, were the ones who deemed a store worthy to stay on their street. Often, if they didn't take kindly to the owner or the store itself, the unfortunate shop would close its doors within months of opening, and the building would be vacated once again. However, the three elders of the street found the attractive young store owner to be quite pleasant, and the shop to be rather benign, albeit peculiar at first. The new apothecary and the young owner were soon swept under the wings of the elders, and invited to meetings among the other store owners. The shop's success was essentially guaranteed.

   Having claimed a spot in the unofficial counsel of store owners, the young shopkeep, whose name was Draco, had one less thing to worry about, and spent his days tending to his shop and working in the back when the store was empty. His workshop was littered with all the items found in the front, yet to be assembled. The room was his sanctuary, a place no one but him was allowed to see. Well, himself and his fluffy grey companion, a cat named Sal. She would lounge on his workbench and watch while he worked, grinding, chopping, brewing in a large black cauldron, bottling his potions, tending to his plants, writing labels in his elegant handwriting, laying out herbs and flowers to dry and jarring them, and all the other meticulous tedium that went into his apothecary work. He did much of his work by hand, finding it therapeutic, only sometimes using his sleek wand to assist, often to clean when a potion didn't quite work out, or when a plant decided to lash out and destroy the area around it in a temper tantrum. The wand, of course, was kept a secret from his fellow store owners. They were only muggles, of course, and would be scandalized to find out such a handsome young man would be involved in witchcraft.

    Witchcraft, indeed. It was a curiosity that an heir to a pureblood family known for being prejudice against non wizards, half bloods, and muggle borns would choose to live in Muggle Bath and keep his magic a secret. However, Draco had his reasons. After the Battle of Hogwarts, he knew his life would never be one of peace as long as he lived in the wizarding world. The Malfoy name was one of stigma in the world of magic, and so, if he ever wished to live his life in relative seclusion and be left to his own devices, he would have to leave everything he'd ever known. Sure, he could have gone back to the Malfoy Manor. It was protected by generations of magic and secluded in its own way, but the horrors that happened in that house were too much to bear for Draco. He never wanted to step foot in that house again, and instead chose to leave altogether, to find a place where no one knew the Malfoy name and he could start over, and Old Herald Street provided that. To witches and wizards, the name Malfoy was one of hatred and bad faith, but to the the muggles of Old Herald Street, the name Malfoy was one belonging to a curious, but kind young man and his apothecary. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

     Draco Malfoy's favorite part about living in the muggle world was the _technology_. After moving to his shop in muggle Bath, Draco quickly learned that muggles did things quite differently than wizards. The culture shock was nearly overwhelming, and he found himself quite lost in this new age. Cars were something new for him; wizards had no need for cars, and the closest thing to a motor vehicle he'd ever experienced was the Hogwarts Train. The internet was also a strange thing to Draco, and he found that all the shops on Old Herald Street had a "computer" to connect them to the internet, as well as store much of the information about their businesses. While obtaining ownership to his shop building, he was introduced to a new kind of paper and pen. These were not rolled parchment or ink-dipping quills; the paper came in thin, individual sheets and was much easier to handle, and the pens never had to be dipped and could keep writing for hours and hours. When he asked for an inkpot, the landlord simply stared at him, as if trying to decide if he was joking or not. Draco, not wanting to raise suspicions, decided to test the pen without an inkpot and timidly signed his name on the designated line, only to find that the pen worked flawlessly. By the time he was finished signing all the papers, Draco felt he was an expert at using these muggle pens, only sometimes pausing in search of an inkpot. 

    One sunny morning, a two women, one around Draco's age and the other rather elderly, entered the shop. Draco greeted them cheerfully and began re-shelving several bottles of the more popular potions behind the counter. The elder woman jabbed the younger in the ribs with her elbow, grinning slyly behind Draco's back. The young lady rolled her eyes, but smiled despite herself.

    "Are you looking for anything in particular?" Draco asked, catching the attention of the two women. 

    Just as the younger opened her mouth to speak, the older woman croaked out, "I don't suppose you use magic in any of these, do you boy?" 

    Her granddaughter, Draco assumed, rolled her eyes. Draco started, but caught himself before looking too scandalized and replied with a smile, "no Ma'am, just herbs, minerals, and other natural ingredients."

      "We're looking for something for my mother. She's been having terrible headaches and refuses to go to the doctor," the younger interjected before her grandmother could reply. 

    Draco quickly ran down the list of his already-brewed potions in his head. "Ah, I know something," he said, skirting around the counter and walking towards a shelve on the other side of the shop. He scanned the shelves for a moment as the two women stood behind him, and found the bottle he was looking for. It was short and stout, with an ovular label and cork stopper. The liquid inside was a brownish-purple color, and some ground plant was floating around in it. The young lady looked slightly perturbed when he handed it to her, but began admiring the elegant script of the label. 

    "Oh wow, this is pretty! I'm ought to take a picture!" She took out a small, rectangular object, and tapped on the face of it a few times. Draco stared at her, baffled as to what she was doing. She glanced up and noticed him staring, and there was a few seconds of silent eye contact. 

    "What... what is that?" Draco asked, eyebrows furrowed. 

    The girl looked equally as confused. "It's... a cell phone?" 

    "What's a cell phone?"

    "It's like... you make calls and stuff, and you can go on the internet? Whadyou mean, 'what's a cell phone?'"

    Draco shrugged. "I'm, uh, not from around here, is all. Oh, this should do the trick. Capita Potion. It's a mixture of bouncing spider juice, dragon liver, powdered lionfish scales, and, uh, the floating stuff is lavender." 

    While the old lady seemed delighted, it was the girl's turn to be confused. However, she asked no questions, apparently figuring it was easier to not ask. 

    They decided to buy the Capita Potion, and Draco took them to the counter. Instead of having a computer and cash register, he had a notebook, an old box with a lock on it, and a sign that read "cash only." He learned to put this up at the counter and at the window after a particularly harrowing encounter with a middle aged man and a small plastic card. 

    Draco jotted down their purchase and the price, and the girl paid for it. As he handed her the paper bag he'd put the potion in after wrapping it, she said, "you're really not from around here, are you?"

    Draco smiled and shook his head. "Practically from a different world." 

    The pair left, and Draco exhaled deeply, took out a small pad of paper, and jotted down 'cell phone' on a long list.

 

 

     The day soon came to an end, and, as he was closing the store, he realized he had nothing to make for dinner that night. It was about eight o'clock, so the little restaurant down the street should still be open. Draco took of his apron and locked the door behind him as he headed out to get dinner. As he turned around, he heard a shout and was suddenly hit in the side, the force strong enough to knock him to the ground. He fell with a yelp, landing hard on his elbow. 

    "Ah shit, sorry mate," the person who had apparently ran into him said, standing and offering him a hand. Draco grabbed it without looking at the man, and brushed himself off. 

    "It's alright, no harm done," he said, fixing his shirt and vest. 

    When he heard no reply, he looked up. The man staring at him and copper skin, bright green eyes behind circular glasses, and all too familiar unruly dark hair. 

    "Potter!" Draco exclaimed in genuine surprise.

    "Malfoy," Harry replied, equally as alarmed. 

    Draco fidgeted a little with his sleeve. "I, uh, didn't expect to run into you here."

    Harry scoffed. "Neither did I. Literally." 

    Draco honestly had no idea what to say. It's not like he had a speech ready in case he ever ran into his school rival ever again. The last thing he needed was to be slapped in the face with the poster child of the wizarding world, and he was at a loss. He was suddenly thrust into the war again, watching as the Dark Lord led the half-giant carrying Harry Potter's corpse into the courtyard, hearing the screams of his friends, and feeling the heat of spells as the battle erupted around him. 

    "You good mate?" 

    Draco snapped his head back up so hard it hurt his neck a little. "Yeah, good. So, what are you doing here? In Bath, I mean. Thought you were doing Auror work or something." The last he'd heard, Potter had wanted to become an Auror. As if he didn't get enough of fighting dark wizards as a child.

    "Nah, got my fill of that as a teenager," he said with a cheeky grin. So Draco was right. "Played Quidditch for a few years, now I'm thinking of going back to Hogwarts to teach. I'm in Bath for a couple days off. Figured I'd explore the rest of England before I lose all my freedom. "

    "Professor Harry Potter. Terrible," Draco said with a chuckle. 

    "Yeah, I know. Nothing's certain yet, though. What about you? What the hell are you doing in the middle of muggle Bath?"

    Draco motioned up. "Opened up shop here. Wanted to get away from it all, you know?" 

    Harry stared at the sign for a moment, 'Malfoy Apothecary and Herbalist.' "Yeah, I know how that feels."

    It was bizarre, standing next to Harry Potter in front of his own store, in the middle of muggle Bath, talking like they were old friends and not mortal enemies. It made Draco wonder what it would have been like to be friends with Potter back at Hogwarts. If, instead of holding a pointless grudge, they might have been at the very least civil to one another. Would it have swayed Draco's morality one way or the other, instead of toeing the line between the Dark Lord and the goodness of the wizarding world? It was impossible to know, and Draco hated to dwell in the past.

    Instead, he chose to take a new path. "Say, Potter. I was just heading out for dinner, care to join me?" 

    Harry looked taken aback. He obviously hadn't been expecting that. "Uhm... sure, I'd like that."

    "This way."

    Draco's life thusfar had been one of hatred and persecution. The Malfoy name embodied those qualities, but Draco wanted to wear it proudly. He wanted to be able to introduce himself as a descendant of the old French family with pride for himself, not shame for what his predecessors had done. Perhaps it was time for a new rendition of the Malfoy name, a new history to be written, and perhaps repairing burnt bridges was the first step to that. 


End file.
